Archive for the ‘It’s Friday, We Should Break Up’ Category

I’m a little late to the party, I realize, but this week, for the first time, I finally tried the whole Greek yogurt thing.

It was on sale at the grocery store, and I found some that only had 100 calories instead of a bajillion.

I had the lovely blueberry, pictured above, the first day. The yogurt is thick and creamy, and has more tang than regular yogurt. It comes with the yogurt in one compartment and the fruit in another. I didn’t realize that I was supposed to be dipping from one side to the other, so in typical American fashion, I just spooned the fruit over into the yogurt and stirred it up.

Blueberry was good. Unfortunately, when I opened the blueberry side of things, it shot blueberry juice all over the boob of my white tank top. But I pressed on, determined not to hold that against it. I didn’t regret it. It was good.

The next day I had strawberry, and I learned my lesson about opening the fruit side. No fruit-splattered boob that day!

This morning? I TRIED HONEY!* Okay, first let me say that the honey variety has more calories, which I didn’t realize until after I’d inhaled it. It’s. Totally. Worth it. I may never eat any other yogurt again. I still didn’t realize I was supposed to be dipping things, so I spooned all the glorious honey (about two tablespoons) into the yogurt and stirred it into a creamy bit of heaven.

From the first taste, I was hooked. I ate the whole thing in 3.5 seconds flat, and it’s a good thing I don’t have another one, or I would make it my bitch, too. How have I missed out on this for so long?

Between this and nutella? I may not need anything else (besides sushi, let’s be real).

“Normal” yogurt? You’re out. It’s been fun, but I have a new love.

*The honey kind only has two ingredients. Yogurt and honey. The fruit varieties all have added sugar and such. EVEN MORE WIN!

I don’t even really know how to begin this post. I’m still in awe (and not in a good way) about the story I just read. And so I’m breaking up with the story, the idea behind the story, the woman in the story, and all the people who are encouraging her.

I’ve seen a lot of things on the internet in my days. But this? This takes the cake (and the cakefarts).

First, I’m shaking my head in disgust that this is in the JOBS section of AOL. Which I’m forced to use because it’s the only email my boss can even sort of understand, even when he tries to paste MS Word files into his email to attach them. I mean, yes, technically this woman is making money, but is this really a JOB?

I never had anything against fat people. Hell, I’m basically one of them. I mean, not on this level, but I’m certainly no skinny Minnie. However, riding the DART has sort of made me change my mind a slight bit about people who are so fat they can’t get up the two steps to get on the bus. Mostly, because they make me late. Your health is your business, as long as it doesn’t affect me, okay? And I still don’t care about health insurance premiums or anything else, because really, if you want to be fat, that’s your choice. And honestly, I think until we fix the completely broken food industry in this country, nothing is going to change all that much. Until it is cheaper to buy fruit and vegetables than a cheeseburger and french fries, we’re fucked.

But this? This is pretty disgusting.

This woman has two children, has been married once, and had a long-term partner once, and she…makes money by getting fatter. She’s using her four-year-old daughter as a food ferry. And, gents, she’s looking for a new partner who is slim and ten years younger than her, so that HE can help feed her, and relieve some of the burden from her daughter.

This is really the society we live in? This woman makes $100K a YEAR on her website for eating and posting pictures and videos? Yay for capitalism?

I’m not saying that this woman should be denied health care, although it’s harder to argue that fat people don’t really cause any more trouble when I read that it took 30 people to deliver her last baby. I’m not saying she’s wrong. I’m not saying she shouldn’t have the right to destroy her body if she wants.

But damn, why would anyone pay to watch that?

Oh wait…I’ve seen the latest reality television offerings. We’ll clearly pay money to watch people do just about anything.

Do NOT be fooled by that cute little puppy. This toilet paper is of the devil.

Okay, it’s probably not that bad. But it’s not good.

Dear Cottonelle,

I used to be an Angel Soft girl. For years, really. Then I discovered Northern triple-ply, which is like the 7th cloud of heaven for my ass (and costs as much as a five-star hotel room). The problem? It clogs the toilet even when there’s just pee.

Then I decided to try to be a good steward of the earth and use recycled toilet paper. Boy, was that a mistake. If triple-ply is the 7th cloud of heaven, recycled toilet paper is like the 7th gate of hell, complete with Satan’s claw for wiping your ass. Are the hippies just against that outer layer of skin?

That’s all to explain how I ended up at the grocery store, pondering my toilet paper decision for the first time in a decade. And there you were:

Look at the cute puppy! It has aloe! And so I purchased it. Damn you, marketing.

In all the years I’ve been wiping my own ass, I’ve never experienced this…aside from the scary one-ply in public bathrooms, maybe. The toilet paper keeps ripping. Like, there’s a hole in it and I end up with my excrement dangerously close to my fingers. How can this be, Cottonelle? You’re TOILET PAPER. This is your JOB.

Maybe you need to go back to toilet paper school? Did you just go for the associates degree? I’d like toilet paper with a masters degree, thank you very much. Do your job. I do not want poo on my fingers.

That is all.

Love,
Shine

PS – That puppy is still really cute. Please send him to me for hugs, because of my toilet paper trauma. Thank you.

Yes, yes. I know. I’m a terrible human for not caring more about people who are suffering all over the world, right? But I do care. I promise.

Here’s the thing: Using “But there are people suffering all over the world!” as an argument for why people shouldn’t complain/own things/be sad about something/get angry about something/whatever? It will never work.

First of all, it’s the Hail Mary pass of arguments. All you’re doing is hoping that you’ll make the person you’re debating feel like a jackass and so guilty that he or she just shuts down.

Second of all, if all of that stuff is so important, why on earth are you standing around HAVING a debate about something that is likely far less important? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, out there solving the problems of the world instead having some pointless argument?

If those two things don’t make you think twice before using such an argument, how about this: There will be suffering in the world, pretty much no matter what. Children are going to be starving in Africa whether I eat my vegetables or not. Women are going to be abused in the Sudan whether I say that we shouldn’t be hateful to each other or not. There’s nothing I can realistically DO about those things. But I can speak up when I see people being hateful, and let’s face it, hate is where all of this begins.

Perspective is always a good thing. Knowing that your life is not over because your boyfriend or girlfriend broke up with you is a good thing. Realizing that there’s almost always someone out there who has it worse than you is a good thing. Smugly acting like those things mean that no one else should be affected by anything? Is ignorant and unproductive.

It’s not that often any more that I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach by…a picture. Yesterday, however, that’s exactly what happened. I know that this won’t apply to all of you, but I think maybe some of you need to see this as much as I did.

My answer to that question, whether fortunately or unfortunately, is: Not very fucking long.

Think about it for a second. Why do we talk to ourselves in a way we would never take from anyone else?

I’ll admit that I think we all have to be honest with ourselves and that it’s important to be a little tough sometimes, in order to get yourself up off the couch, but I am downright hateful to myself, occasionally. I would never let another human (aside from possibly some family members) talk to me the way I talk to myself about some things.

So, in addition to all the other new things I’m trying, I’m going to make a concerted effort over the next month to only say nice things to myself. And I think you should do it with me.

Read it again, Sam.

If you tip the Sonic Girl…oh, hell, even if you don’t.

I write for you. I rap for you (that one time, but c'mon, it was awesome). I make you laugh.

If any of that inspires you to, say, buy me a virtual drink, clicking that button up there will take you to PayPal. I will send so many happy thoughts in your general direction.

This money will not go to help the homeless or feed the hungry, but it just might get me drunk enough to do stupid things for your entertainment. Or buy me sexy toys. Just sayin'.

Don't worry, I already feel like an asshole. But GingerMandy talked me into it (I'm pretty sure it was my idea. Because no one will do a telethon for me.) after she foisted a really complicated budget sheet on me and now my head hurts.